Page 114 of Desperate Desires

“No fucking way. I want to be paid. He owes me! I don’t fucking care if she’s his wife. When Pop goes, I’m the head of this family.”

He slammed the phone down angrily and turned to me, wiping his nose, breathing heavily.

“Hey you, bitch, you married that fuck?” the second man, Rico asked me like he couldn’t believe it.

I nodded. I didn’t know why I answered, but even that small movement of my head cost me. I groaned and closed my eyes.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he said, and I flicked my eyes open.

“Yeah. We’re m-married,” I said lowly, my voice trembling.

“Yeah? You good enough for Mr. Fancy Pants Bottarelli, maybe you’re good enough for me,” Rico sneered.

“What do you think, Rico? Think he’ll mind if we go a round or two with her? Nah, I don’t think so,” Carmine said, and he moved closer to me, grabbing my knees.

“He won’t fucking mind I get my rocks off, will he? He won’t be alive long enough to mind,” Rico answered, giggling like the sick fuck that he was.

My chest rose and fell in frantic, ragged gasps as fear coursed through every nerve in my body like wildfire.

A scream ripped from my throat—raw and desperate, filling the air with the sound of my terror.

The two of them loomed closer, a nightmare in the flesh, and instinct took over.

I lashed out wildly, kicking with everything I had—one foot still encased in my silly, but precious to me, gold Croc, the other bare and vulnerable.

The absurdity of it would’ve made me laugh if I weren’t fighting for my life.

The impact barely fazed them, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t just lie there and let it happen. I couldn’t be helpless.

Every cell in my body screamed at me to fight, to thrash, to claw—to do something.

Because the alternative?

The alternative was unthinkable. No, I wasn’t going to let these men just do whatever they planned to do.

I wasn’t going to be their victim. I just couldn’t bear the thought.

So, I did what I could, kicking and screaming, struggling against my binds to get free.

“Stop it!”

“Fuck! Hold her down!”

They both yelled, crying out when I hit them, and backing away. Carmine turned, grabbing his gun from where he’d dropped it on the table.

Then he pointed it at me, an ugly sneer on his face.

This is it. I’m going to die.

Ono!

My heart cried out for my husband, a silent plea that reverberated through every broken piece of me.

Sadness slammed into me like a Mack truck, cold and crushing. I closed my eyes, ready—willing—for death to take me.

But death never came.

Instead, a deafening explosion shattered the room, ripping through the air like a thunderclap.

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